


Madness (or something like it)

by orphan_account



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Developing Relationship, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You- what are you?"</p><p>Where it becomes clear that Noiz may be the sanest man in Midorijima, which is saying a lot. DRAMAtical Murder Secret Santa gift for spiritsiphon, a Noicle one-shot. <i>Merry Christmas!</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Madness (or something like it)

**Beginnings**  
 _(or "we're all 'mad' here")_

Three days had passed since Aoba had fled from the police and fallen out of contact, a fact that Noiz was frustratingly aware of as he crouched in the corridors of Oval tower, writing the fastest security bypass he had ever set his mind too, as a pack of robotic Doberman allmates – _German_ , of _course_ \- circled both him and the boy he’d found himself with, tensed in his white coat a few feet from him. Three days of dodging police, security teams, forging IDs for the resort and then the tower, with the bitching of a hairdresser and the looming presence of a convict on his back. More time for Aoba to get killed, or captured, removed from his reach entirely.

In the present, however, the growls around them were getting louder, and the clatter of claws told of more to come. It was becoming clear that his attempts to keep ahead of the situation without breaking his concentration were going to prove difficult, and he almost said something, before the cheerful voice of his companion rang out behind him.

“I’ll get them – keep at it, Noiz!”

Noiz gave a sharp nod, focusing his attention fully on the programming on his screen. “Then go.”

There were sounds of running footsteps, then a metallic thump – his concentration almost broke, midway through the second firewall - but the voice rang out again: “it’s working, keep doing what you’re doing, _don’t stop!”_

More sounds of conflict follow but Noiz forced the distractions away, eyes on the numbers dancing across the screen, until - _**there** it was – _ he had it. A line of code, and he’d severed their connection to the main grid, isolating them from their sensors, and disabling the alarms. Another, and he’d cut the power, and he watched with satisfaction as his code rendered the expensive machines into little more than scrap metal.

There was a scrape of metal against tile as the security allmates collapsed, and content with the success of his program, he minimised his coil. That was easier than he had expected - Toue was arrogant in the design of the security, assuming that any intruders would be killed before they could attempt to enter the system, and Noiz had no qualms taking advantage of his hubris. Closing his coil with a flick of his fingers, he stretched his hands, massaging the base of his palms. They were ready. Aoba was waiting – and he had every intention of keeping him close- until he got his rematch.

Pushing himself to his feet, Noiz took stock of his surroundings. He was apparently unharmed, which was more than he had expected. The previously sterile hallway was now littered with ragged scars that tore through tile and plaster alike, the carcasses clustered in small, glittering heaps of metal. The scene brought with it an overpowering, bitter stench of hot-tin and burning rubber, that forced his arm up in an attempt to smother it; but all-in-all, they’d fared better than he’d thought they would.

A set of careful footsteps echoed further along the hallway and Noiz turned, ready to suggest they move on – when he caught sight of the other man, freezing in place.

His companion was crouched on the other side of the hall, the over-sized coat that the boy favoured charred and missing half a sleeve. Noiz had expected that – the fight had sounded fierce and bloody- but when the boy swayed, what was left twirled, tattered, revealing what it had covered: a thin, shriveled thing that had once been an arm.

_"What…"_

"Hmm? Ah!"

Jumping slightly, the other man scrambled to his feet, dropping the metallic leg of a security allmate in a clatter to the ground as he gave Noiz a wide, friendly smile that stretched across his face from ear to ear.

"Nice job, Noiz! They didn’t stand a chance… hmm?” Clear trailed off into silence, his face scrunching expressively, confusion clear as he noticed the other man’s silent stare in his direction. “What is…"

The boy’s expression froze, and the hand that wasn’t dangling uselessly at his side flew to his face. His features contorted, taking on an element of panic as he turned away, patting his head, his chest, his pockets… “Ahh..! Don’t look Noiz-san, please! Please, whatever you do, don’t look!”

Spotting the mask that usually covered his features laying in a mess of melted plastic a few feet away, Clear made a scramble towards it, his uninjured hand hovering just above the mass as if he were afraid to touch it. “Oh no… This is not good…”

"Stop."

"…no! I can’t, I can’t…" He began patting down his jacket, stuffing his arms deep into his pockets, pulling out an umbrella, a drink, a ball of twine, something stuffed that _looked suspiciously like a jellyfish_ , his body-language becoming increasingly agitated. “Nononono-“

Hissing between his teeth, Noiz grabbed him roughly, ignoring the muffled sounds of distress as he pushed him into the wall, blocking him as he made a desperate move to escape, scrambling to cover his face. Keeping one hand on his chest to _keep him_ _there_ , Noiz bent to grab his other wrist, grasping the tattered sleeve. Slowly, with more care than his previous actions would have suggested, he adjusted his grip and brought it closer, incredulity fighting for dominance with concern in his expression.

“ _Fuck_. Do you not feel…”

His words trailed off, eyes widening as he looked at what remained of the boy’s hand, thin bones gleaming brightly in the bright lighting of the hallway. Except… _bone_ was not the right term. What he held between his fingers was _clearly_ metal, clean, clear, _silver_.

Lines of charred muscle weaved around it, and as he watched, the metal grew hot, a burning white heat that he felt as a quick, short sting just beneath the thick layer of dull sensation in his skin. He dropped it with a hiss, twisting his wrist away before any more damage could be dealt, but his eyes were drawn inexorably to the remnants of tissue clinging to the metal, meat scraped away from a bone. A dark liquid – that was not blood due to its _viscousity_ , a thick layer of material that smothered everything – oozed from the wounds, until the hand itself was obscured. This lasted for only a moment, before the liquid solidified, thinning into muscles, tendons, until what was left was clean, unblemished skin.

He finally raised his gaze, meeting the boy’s as he peered through his fingers, head tilted as far to the side as he could, fingers still desperate to mask something, that Noiz couldn’t see – or guess. After a moment, Clear lifted the hand in question in front of his face, flexing his fingers and twisting his wrist, showing its movement to Noiz. “It’s fine, see?” His next words were a rushed single breath, barely louder than a whisper. “Now please - _please Noiz-san_ \- please let me go, and don’t look.”

Shoving himself away, Noiz eyed him incredulously. “You- what _are you?_ ”

“I don’t know.” The boy’s hands – both this time - were shoved desperately once more into his pockets, grasping until he finally found what he was looking for. “ _Aha!”_

Reaching up awkwardly, the boy slipped something across his face, adjusting it until it was straight, and Noiz found himself staring into the blank, plasticized face of a female geisha. Nodding towards Noiz, Clear turned to run down the corridor, his haphazard footsteps resounding in a loud, clattering echo. “Hurry, _hurry_ , master needs us!”

After a moment’s pause, Noiz turned to follow him, hitting the floor at a run. He’d just reached the next hall by the time the kid had reached another elevator, and he lengthened his stride, coming abreast of him just as the glass doors opened. Panting, they slipped in, careful to avoid each other’s eyes, questions that had not been answered cluttering Noiz’s thoughts. The irritation that accompanied them was hard to ignore, but Noiz pushed it aside for the time being, focusing on the steps ahead. There would be time, later, to investigate. To figure out what the _fuck_ was wrong with Midorijima, and the strange men that inhabited it.

With a ding, the elevator reached the upper floor, opening smoothly to reveal an overly grand, carved ballroom. The light from a gilded chandelier gleamed off of the artificial smile of the geisha mask, and Noiz’s lips twisted into an incredulous smile. _Scheiße_. The entire island was nuts.

_"…in den Kaninchenbau… ”_

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for the _terrible_ German.
> 
> ' _Scheiße._ ' - shit.  
>  _"…in den Kaninchenbau…"_ \- down the rabbit hole.


End file.
